


(when you're) underwater

by qannibalism (wip_wizard)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M, One Shot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, just some emo shit honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wip_wizard/pseuds/qannibalism
Summary: Hannibal wakes up after falling off the cliff, but he doesn't remember the water. (aka Hannibal has trouble believing he survived)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	(when you're) underwater

Hannibal had always found comfort in imagining his life. Various diverging scenarios, splitting and changing based on decisions. There were far away options where he was someone else entirely, in a Lithuanian castle without ghosts. There were others where he was already dead, the happenstance of a car accident or a slippery tile floor having taken him before anyone else could. 

He had abandoned a very real option that fateful night in his kitchen, any chance of a family lost in the blood and rain. Sometimes, like his heart was split between worlds, he indulged the idea of that life- where he would be now, how he and Will and Abigail might be different. Thinking of it felt like recalling a dream.

But he never thought past life, allowed all scenarios to taper and darken at the inevitability of death. The possibilities of who he is, will be, and could have been is a great splintering tree- but not infinite.

The breathless seconds of falling while wrapped in Will’s arms was an ending he’d anticipated, but feeling it was more blissful than even his imagination would allow. He couldn’t remember them hitting the water.

He was so sure he was dead, so content with the idea of being dead, that now opening his eyes could only be described as an afterlife. Drawing breath, seeing sunlight, even his pain- it shimmered like no other time in his lived life had. Seeing Will beside him, something from a dream, it couldn’t have been real- it had to be heaven.

The shimmer of it faded, what he saw and felt proved itself real. Blood and sea water and aching joints. Grease in his hair, scabs, stitches, foul smells. It was real, _painfully_ , and yet he couldn’t believe it. He was alive, he was free, he had Will Graham beside him- he was waiting to wake up.

“How long have you been awake?” Will’s voice was a gravelly whisper. Hannibal turned his head on the itchy pillow of the cot to behold him, and blue eyes looked back. Salt glittered on his eyelashes.

“I don’t know,” he replied- sounding equally as rough. _Was this awake?_

Will took a deep breath, swallowed, and spoke with a grin. “You look awful.”

Hannibal felt naked, skinless with flesh and innards exposed. He tried to smile back but it wobbled, eyes watering. Will’s grin fell, but Hannibal never looked away. He was suddenly afraid to look away, or blink or breathe. All of what he wanted to say filled his mouth, threatening to spill from his lips. _I’m dead, I’m dreaming, I love you, I’m afraid you’ll disappear_. “I don’t remember the water.”

“You’re lucky.” Will winced, sitting up with eyes screwed shut. 

_I must be, to have you here_. “What was it like?”

A strange, pained grin pulled at Will’s lips. “Cold. And clarifying.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.” Hannibal braced himself for the bubble to pop, for the dream to fade away. “Are you happy we survived?” 

“Happy?” Will shook his head, his curls were too matted to bounce. “This doesn’t feel like surviving.”

Hannibal’s chest felt tight, fingers cold, tongue too fat and dry to be sitting in his mouth. He moved to sit up, upper lip curling at the pain rippling through him. It should have helped to ground him, but it was a dull knock on a faraway door. 

He could remember the water then, icy pressure pulling him down into darkness. No air, the crushing silence of the ocean’s depth. Words would be garbled, swallowed whole and unintelligible if spoken. Attempting to survive underwater is impossible.

His feet were on the floor, ready to stand, when Will’s feet stepped into focus in front of his. Hannibal looked up to see Will bracing himself on the wall, expression strained and determined. 

“How do you feel then?” _If not happy, if not content with having lived?_

Will extended a hand toward Hannibal. There was still blood under his fingernails, staining his knuckles. The sea couldn’t clean everything. “Changed.”

Hannibal dared to take his hand, ready for it to slip through his fingers. But Will was solid and warm. The weight of his palm, pressure of his fingers- _this_ was waking up. Hannibal saw then, undoubtedly sure. _Clarified._

The roots of that great tree of hypotheticals, every second lived and imagined, all of it had been underwater. He was finally breathing air, seeing sunlight unfiltered by waves. Bright is the waking world, when all you’ve known is sleep. 

“And how do you feel?” Will asked, pulling Hannibal to his feet. They winced in unison, two teetering forms relying on one another for balance. Hannibal didn’t- wouldn’t- let go of Will's hand.

“Changed.”

**Author's Note:**

> !! short lil shit, hope you enjoyed! (also. write a fic where hannibal doesn't cry challenge: failed)
> 
> title from lyric in: virginia woolf underwater // chelsea wolfe


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